Not To Be
by White Rose Withering
Summary: Zaf and Adam's thoughts as they put Ruth's things into storage. Post 5:05


**Disclaimer:** **Spooks and all it's characters belong to Kudos and the BBC. If I did own anything, wishing would change everything**

**Author's Note: Post 5:05. I feel dirty, and not in a good way. This is my first fic that has neither Harry or Ruth actually in it, but please stick with it. And I seem to like the idea of turning Harry into a depressed drunk, which I promise won't be for much longer. Please don't forget to leave a review**

**Not To Be  
**  
"Awful, isn't it?"

The dust had barely settled on her life when the order had come in. _A decision made by a higher power_, that's all he said, like something inside of him had broken. All of them had made the choice for him; he was in no state to rummage around in her things. So they wrapped the breakables in bubble wrap, packed everything into boxes and tried not to remember that it was all part of a person's life. _Her life_.

It had surprised them just how little she owned. Someone like her…they expected to find a treasure trove of antiques, books and knick-knacks, all in a specific spot, loved and adored. But besides the furniture, she had very little. Shelves of books and shoe boxes full of photographs took up most of the space; a few choice ornaments littered the mantlepiece and a lone, wooden cat sat on the hearth. Somehow, even without cupboards full of possessions, the house seemed more lived in than their own.

Zaf and Adam had been the last two at the house, and so had offered to put everything into storage, though neither of them were pleased with the idea of locking her things away from the world, her family, and people that she loved and loved her in return, in a damp and dark concrete bunker. It seemed so final, like lower a coffin into the cold, cold earth.

The blonde officer looked up from the box he was resealing. It hadn't escaped their attention that a few of the cardboard boxes had been opened, and their contents examined. "What is?" He asked, pausing his fight with a roll of sellotape to send a side long glance at his colleague.

"All of this," he gestured to the dozen of cardboard boxes that surrounded them. "For someone like her to be reduced to this." He kicked the nearest box to him, praying that there was nothing fragile inside. "A storage unit and a name on a register of the dead."

"I know mate, it's…." he groped for the right word, but all of them sounded clumsy on his tongue. "…hard for all of us." He finally settled on.

_Understatement of the century_, Zaf thought bitterly.

The grid's vibrant blues and steely greys had faded without her subtle humour and gentle smile. Now it resembled a prison cell, cold and suffocating, and one they were all forced to share. Any new members of staff that had unfortunately been assigned to Section D felt the full force of their grief. _His_ especially descended upon them like lightening from the heavens. They never lasted longer than two days.

Everyone dealt with the loss differently. Ros was more aloof than ever, if that was even possible. Jo constantly found herself doing more than her jobs worth of paperwork. Adam was…well Adam. And Malcolm had started to look like the last solider at his post. Since Colin's murder, those two had practically been inseparable.

It occurred to Zaf just how much she had been there for each and every one of them, at one point or another. Whether she had been swamped with reports or late for an evening out, she had made time to hear their problems. Sometimes she wouldn't even say anything. She would sit there with her blue, blue eyes, as understanding as they were beautiful, and she'd listen. She was good at that, listening. It was part of what made her so damn good at her job, unfortunately it was also why she ran away from her chance at happiness with Harry.

Adam sighed and picked up another box that was waiting to be sealed. He caught a glimpse of a familiar smile inside and reached into the box. He pulled out several lose photos and a leather bound book. There was no mistaking that smile, even in black and white it shone like a diamond in the sunlight. She was dressed in a ball gown, in what he guessed was either a dark blue or purple. The corset style top flowed into a skirt of soft lace. It must have been taken when she was still at Oxford. She looked so happy and young; almost naïve.

He flicked through the photo album, and felt the prickle of tears behind his eyes, that he quickly quashed. He held in his hands her whole life, nothing more than a few fleeting glances really, but evidence that she existed just the same. It made him feel a little better knowing that the service couldn't get their hands on it and erase it like the rest of her.

He skipped ahead to the more recent ones and smiled. The only time cameras were allowed on the grid were either during an operation or at the annual Christmas party; she had obviously taken advantage of that rule last year. Happy, smiling faces glanced back at him, completely oblivious to what the future held. He almost envied them. Adam went through the pages from the party, looking for the one shot he wanted.

With a frown, he stopped on the last page. _Where was it?_ It had to be there, he took it for god's sake. _Them…under the mistletoe…gazing into each others eyes_. Then he saw it. The remains of backing paper and dried glue, a sign that someone had ripped one of the photos out. He scratched off one of the hardened blobs and sighed. _So that's what he was after. _

"It's hard for all of us," He repeated, more to himself than to Zaf. "But for some of us…it's torture."

He found it hard to disagree with that. His thoughts constantly ran in circles around that same, single thought. Harry hadn't smiled since she'd left.

If the grid for them was like a prison cell, then Harry must be in his own personal hell. Seeing someone else sitting at her desk, answering her phone, typing on her keyboard. His eyes were once warm, and fiercely passionate; now they resembled the bottom of a bottle, empty and without purpose. His liquor cabinet had gotten smaller by the day, until only a cheap bottle of brandy remained. What was more unsettling was that it had become achingly obvious that he wasn't sleeping. The dark circles under his eyes were harsh against his skin, which had taken on an almost sickly pallor. He didn't even have the stamina to shout at the admin staff anymore.

It was as if the strong leader they all knew and loved had died along with her, leaving a shadow of his former self in his stead.

Silence engulfed the storage unit like an acid cloud. The late night traffic sounded louder than it should have, and the mild creak of the light bulb as it swung in the air started to set Zaf's teeth on edge.

He gestured to a colour photo of her sat beside Malcolm on a park bench. It had been taken not long after Fiona's memorial service; they all had decided to take a walk through the park to clear their heads. He remembered how disappointed she had been when Harry declined to join them. "How long do you think…I mean," He couldn't find the words.

"How long had they been in love?" He finished for him.

Zaf nodded, making his head rise and fall sombrely.

Adam smiled, the brilliant white of his teeth was almost blinding. "It was love at first sight mate, or so I'm told."

"So that's what? Three, almost four years?" He dropped the photos back into the box, and thrust his hands into his pockets. "And he's just giving up?"

"He's doing what he has to, what she wanted him to. He's getting on with his life, with his job." It came out harder than he intended it to.

"It seems like he's taking the easy option."

"Easy? You think it's easy?" Adam questioned, willing Zaf to look him in the eye. "Harry's had to make decisions that would make your toes curl and your blood run cold, but letting her go, letting her give up everything, _everything_ for him…It had to have been the hardest choice he's ever had to make, and probably ever will make."

Zaf couldn't even begin to imagine Harry's thought process at times like those. What must it be like to know that your choice could kill people or save them? What must it be like to know that your signature could destroy economies or create them? No wonder all his medical records showed that his blood pressure was through the roof.

"Could you do that Zaf?"

He met Adam's gaze for a brief second before dropping it. "No."

"No," He repeated, coldly. "So don't go spouting crap about it being the easy option. Being left behind is always the hardest thing to live with."

Zaf turned his back on his senior officer, and picked a box up off the floor. He went about his task of sealing up the box in silence, the sellotape and a marker pen doing all the talking for him.

Adam closed his eyes and went back to the job at hand. He carefully placed the photos back in their box and with a slight shake of his head, he folded the lid closed. "Look mate," He said, breaking the silence. "I know you liked her, but…some things aren't meant to be. She made her choice, and she made it long before you knew each other."

"I know that, it's just…"

"No, it's not just anything, Zaf. You can have any girl you want, so stop fancying the woman your boss is in love with, alright?" He hit him playfully on the arm. "Unless you want to be shipped off to Poland." He added with his usual cheeky grin.

Zaf snorted. "No thanks."

"I hear it's nice this time of year…"

With an exasperated sound, Zaf dug out his car keys and tossed them to his colleague. "Come on we better get back to Thames House before Jo thinks we've run away together."

"You make that sound like a bad thing." He said, winking. His eyes shined with laughter. "You coming?"

"Yeah, just…give me a minute."

The door closed behind Adam with the sound of metal rubbing against metal, and the doorframe shook. It was enough to start the light bulb swinging again. Shadows danced across the cement walls, a thick, swirling mass of black. Zaf took one last glance at the boxes, wishing he could somehow see her face amongst them.

As soon as he walked out the door and took the key back to Personnel, they would have to go back to pretending that she was a traitor who took her own life, and they would have to live with the changes in their boss. No amount of wishing would change that. Adam was right, some things just weren't meant to be.

He paused at the door and looked back into the den of boxes. "Bye Ruth, I'll…I'll keep an eye on him for you." Sharing a secret smile with her possessions, he closed the door and turned the key.

_The End_


End file.
